Verla knows Yolanda is telling the truth. And then, with the image of the kicking, bucking Yolanda who understood something terrible was coming, Verla knows that a month has gone by and she will not be released. She understands, like a bucket of cold water coming down, that nobody is looking for her. There are no petitions, no Facebook protest groups, no legal challenges, no private negotiations. The memory of the agreement she signed—oh, her own stupidity—makes Verla’s face hot.
